Thanksgiving (Psalm 100)
Summary
Pastor Dominic Jackson opens Psalm 100—a communal song of thanksgiving sung by God's people as they entered the temple together—to ask what happens when Sunday worship starts to feel like just another Sunday. Moving through the psalm line by line, Dominic explores the difference between happiness and joy, the myth of the self-made man, and the age-old debate over whether we were created to worship or created out of love (his answer: yes, both). Along the way, he challenges the consumer mindset many of us bring to church, reminding us that worship was never about us—it's a gift we get to give, and it's where we find ourselves most fully loved.
Questions for reflection
Dominic compares worship to the excitement of giving someone the perfect gift. When was the last time you came to worship with that kind of anticipation? What tends to get in the way?
Dominic says, "Happiness is a feeling. Joy is an outlook. We feel happy. We choose joy." How have you seen the difference between happiness and joy in your own life, especially in hard seasons?
Psalm 100 was originally sung together, not alone. How does reading it as a communal prayer rather than a private devotion change the way you hear it?
Dominic confesses to leaving church and "leaving a review," acting as a consumer rather than a participant. What preferences do you tend to bring into worship, and what would it look like to run them through God instead of yourself?
The first time the word "worship" appears in Scripture, it carries the sense of sacrifice. What might worship be asking you to lay down—your ego, your preferences, or something else?
W. E. Sangster believed the worst thing that could happen to us is to lose our hunger and thirst for God. Where is your hunger for God right now, and what might help renew it?
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Last week was the Good Friday message. If you remember, we looked at Psalm 22, so we had Good Friday right in the middle of summer. And then today, our reading Matt just read for us—we had our Thanksgiving psalm, so we have our Thanksgiving message. Come back next week. I think we're going to be talking about Groundhog Day or something like that. I don't know. We'll find out together. But either way, today we talk about Thanksgiving.
But first, before we look at our text, a quick question. Have you ever given somebody an amazing gift before? Have you ever just, like, knocked it out of the park? It's okay. You can brag. Like, you gave somebody, like, the perfect—I love giving gifts. I'm not really one to, like, give a gift card or anything like that. Nothing against it. Not my thing. I also don't spend a lot of money. I'm kind of cheap. So there's also that. But I like giving gifts that are not really generic. You probably won't find it at Walmart or something like that. And I don't even like to give gifts that are practical either. What I love is, like, somebody will say, like, "Oh, I had this thing 20 years ago when I was a kid, and I've been looking for it ever since." And I'm, like, challenge accepted. Like, I love that. I actually worked at an antique shop when I was in seminary, which was a lot of fun. I got to see a lot of cool old things. And so I love just, like, looking for that perfect gift, often at thrift stores or wherever, yard sales. Like, intentional gifts. Anybody else like that? I'm sure there's a few of you. Okay.
Well, think about, like, that feeling of getting ready to give that gift, like the lead-up, like how excited you were just to see their face as they open it up, whether it's Christmas or their birthday or just a random day—like, you were just thinking about that person. And, like, for me, I remember just thinking about it all day. Like, I just could not wait until they saw this thing that I found at, like, a thrift store for 50 cents or something, right? But it was, like, perfect for them. And what I love is, like, it's not about you at all. Like, it's not your day. You're not getting a present either, right? And it's really just all about them.
Here's the thing. That feeling of, like, that anticipation—like, I can't wait to give this to them—I will confess, some days I come to our Sunday gatherings, I come to church, and I actually feel that way. Like, even though I'm a terrible singer—ask anybody in rows one to three, they will tell you, right? And yet as I'm driving here, some days I just, like, cannot wait to show up here and just sing and worship God. Worship with our songs, with our readings, with our generosity, with our prayers. And it feels like I'm giving something away. I still feel like that little kid in elementary school who, you know, you would make your parents, like, a gift, and it, like, didn't look very good. It was, like, glitter and dried macaroni noodles or whatever, right? And, like, all day, you can't wait to give it to your parents. And even though that card or poster, or my singing, isn't going to be winning any awards anytime soon, still, I just can't wait to, like, give it away. Some days I show up here feeling that way.
But I will confess, other days—other days I don't. Other days it's just another Sunday. Like, it's just another sermon. It's just another song. Just another call to worship. Another benediction. And that isn't a reflection on our band, who's awesome. And it's obviously definitely not a reflection on God. It's a me issue. And I think if I were to look deep at what's underneath that, it isn't about the songs that I'm singing or the verses we're looking at or anything like that. For me, I think the issue is where my focus is at. And if that is the sickness, if that is, like, the diagnosis, I think Psalm 100 would be the perfect prescription for turning back to where I should have been all along. That's where we're going this morning. Let's pray, and then we'll look at our text again.
Lord, help us to remember that something incredible is happening here, that you are here, that you are present, and there is something unexplainable and, honestly, unlike any other part of our weeks when God's people gather together to worship you. And so let today be just that—that our prayers and songs and our conversations, all of it, let it be an act of worship. Lord, I confess that there are times when I show up, and whether it feels monotonous or it just feels like another thing to do or whatever it is, Lord, there are times where I've entered into your sanctuary in my mind and heart or other places. And so, Lord, if anyone else is feeling that, Holy Spirit, just soften our hearts. Soften our hearts to you. I pray this all in Jesus' name. Amen.
Well, once again, we are going to be in Psalm 100. Matt just read it for us. If you have a copy of the Scriptures and you want to turn there, Psalm 100—if not, the words will be on the screen. And a little bit of context as you're flipping there, then we'll move through our psalm line by line.
This psalm has a title. Not all of them do, but this one actually has a title. It's a note for the chief musician. And you'll notice that word "thanksgiving," probably, in the title—or maybe your translation says "giving gratefulness." And it's all the same word. It's the Hebrew word todah. And what you'll see in a moment is this psalm of thanksgiving originally wasn't a psalm to be read or sung when you were, like, thankful that you had a good day. Or maybe you just, like, woke up feeling good. So you're going to flip to—they didn't have copies of the Scriptures—you would think through, like, Psalm 100, right? Something good—you had, like, a stroke of good luck, so I'm going to praise God and sing Psalm 100. Really, it wasn't about you or an individual at all. Psalm 100 was a communal, corporate psalm of thanksgiving.
Additionally, you'll notice in a moment that the psalm describes coming into the temple and singing this psalm. Not on the side of a mountain, not in the privacy of my own home, but this specific psalm, at least how it was originally sung, was for a gathering in many ways similar to this—God's people coming together to worship, right? As a church or a temple family, as a group of believers. And so as we look at this psalm, I would invite you: don't read it as, like, you alone, got your cup of coffee, sitting next to the fire, right? Your quiet time in the morning. Nothing's wrong with that. But this originally was a communal prayer for a group of people to come together, brothers and sisters, joining hands and seeking the Lord together.
Let's take a look. Psalm 100 opens, verse 1: "Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth." That first word here is "shout." It is loud. It is bold. It doesn't care who hears it at all—which is, I have to admit, the complete opposite of my temperament, right? Like, this is not my go-to. This isn't my normal disposition. I'm not one to shout, especially in church, right? At least that's not the circles I grew up in. Our church gatherings are supposed to be, like, dignified and respectful, and we show up on our best behavior. It's the one day of the week I usually iron my shirt, right? Like, we're supposed to be on our best behavior, and yet we see the opposite here in many ways, where we're encouraged to shout, right? Shout loud.
This reminds me of the story of the woman who anoints Jesus' head with oil—if you know that story—with perfume, and how she drops to the floor and anoints his head, and she's letting out these loud sobs, right? In the middle of this social gathering, here she is dropping to the floor. At one point, she's literally drying his feet, Jesus' feet, with her hair, because she doesn't care what anybody thinks. She isn't going to let anyone's expectations or cultural norms get in the way of her worship. And all the onlookers are probably whispering to each other. You can even read that they start to mock her until Jesus tells them to stop, right? And they're probably, like, cringing at this. And all she can see is Jesus. And as the psalmist said, this type of worship isn't done in a whisper or a reserved melody. It is a shout. It is loud. It is bold.
Also notice that word "joy." You won't find happiness here—not yet—but instead joy. This isn't to say happiness is wrong. We'll get to that in a moment. But what is being described is a loud shout to the Lord, but one done so with joy.
Speaking of joy, anytime I think of that word, I think of the letter to the Philippians, if you're familiar with that. It's this little short letter, Philippians, and it's just over 100 verses. And yet, even though it's short—you could read it in, like, 20 minutes or something like that—the word "joy" appears 16 times. It's on, like, every single page. And there are so many great lines in that letter, right? "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Somebody should put that on a bumper sticker or something, right? It's this beautiful verse, and there's so many others in there. But what people forget is Paul is writing this in prison. Paul is in the middle of prison. Paul is going through one of the hardest seasons of his life, and yet still, you wouldn't think it based on how joyful he is.
And here in Psalm 100, right out the gate, the instruction is to shout with joy. Why? Because the truth is, happiness is temporary. But joy, true joy, is something that is eternal. Happiness is a feeling. Joy is an outlook. We feel happy. We choose joy.
And I have to admit, I find this freeing personally, because—if you remember, a couple weeks ago Carlos was here and he was talking about the laments—I find this encouraging, because sometimes we don't show up here happy. Sometimes we're going through things, and the invitation isn't, like, "Okay, you're at church, so we've got to, like, fake it till we make it or pretend everything is okay." It's actually the opposite. It's honesty, vulnerability, transparency. It's inviting God into that, right? But joy is different. Joy is saying—unlike happiness, which is a feeling, which is dependent on my circumstances—joy is a choice. And it's available if you're on top of the world or if you're lamenting. In fact, it's often our laments that lead us to joy. It's crying out to God. We see this honesty all over the Psalms. At times, the psalmists are even doubting God, doubting God's goodness. And instead of hiding that away or pretending it's not there, they're bringing that to God.
Also, notice who is being invited to praise the Lord. It says, "all the earth." That word "earth" is cosmos. Sometimes it means people. It's kind of a tricky word. Sometimes you'll read that word and it means people. Sometimes it's a culture. Sometimes it means the planet. Sometimes it's referring to the entire solar system. It's all the same word. And then there are times like this where all of those definitions—they all work.
I love how Psalm 19, if you've read it, is split in half. And the first half of it is about the God who speaks in the Word. And then the other half is the God who speaks in the world. And here's the beauty of this: according to another psalm, Psalm 148, the world actually speaks back to God. Nature worships God—not with words or songs, at least not human songs, but trees stretching up to the sky as tall as you could see, even with your eyes, right? And flowers that bloom and clouds that form. This isn't just because of God. It is for God. And according to the psalmist, the whole earth worships.
Verse 2: "Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs." Now here we have both joyfulness, but also gladness, or happiness, right? Remember, I didn't say that there was anything wrong with being happy. In fact, the opposite. For some reason, many religious people have convinced themselves that we need to be, like, serious and dour and uptight all the time, right? But I love what Spurgeon said. He said, "Our happy God should be worshiped by a happy people."
Now, you might be thinking, wait, you just said the opposite a minute ago, right? If we're not happy, don't pretend we are, right? Absolutely. But I'm not talking about when we're going through difficult times and inviting Jesus into that. What I'm talking about is just, like, our normal, everyday outlook on life—our contentment, our disposition. The truth is, Christians should be the most joyful, happy—happiest—people alive. I mean, if we believe we are a saved people, a redeemed people, a rescued people, a loved people, that should change something, right?
Also, notice that the invitation is not just be glad, but to worship with gladness. It isn't just showing up. It isn't just, like, checking the box—"I did my religious duties for the week"—but it's also to do so gladly. Have you ever had somebody who did a favor for you, but with a really bad attitude? It's the worst. It is, like, the worst feeling. Someone once, many years ago—somebody volunteered to take me to the airport, LAX. And I didn't ask them to, but they volunteered to take me to the airport. And I had taken them a couple of times, so I think maybe there was some guilt there. They felt obligated. But then after this person showed up at my house at 6 a.m.—this person who volunteered, by the way—all they did the entire time we were driving there was just complain. And they were just, like, complaining about how, like, tired they were. And they didn't have enough time to, like, go home and go back to bed. But they also didn't know what to do with, like, this extra hour they had or whatever. And I just kept thinking, like, you didn't have to do this. Like, I didn't ask you to do this. And even though it was a gift, it was one I didn't want, because their heart wasn't in it, right? I often wonder, when God sees our worship, our prayers, our Bible time, our generosity, right—does he ever feel the same?
Verse 3: "Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture." Here's a hot take for you. Definitely in this day and age, I think it is—and especially, not limited to, but young men on the internet. So there you go. But honestly, I think it's something that everybody needs to hear. But here's my hot take: there is no such thing as a self-made man. He doesn't exist, honestly. All of this—all of our gifts, our talents, our opportunities—are because of God. And we belong to God.
But the problem is, for many of us—and I've been guilty of this myself—when something bad happens, it's God's fault. But when something good happens, it's because of me and how talented I am and how great I am, right? My talent, my passion, my discipline. And though I believe God's design is he uses our character and our attributes and our sacrifices—we're not just robots; absolutely, he uses them—the psalmist reminds us, regardless of our part in that, we are still his people.
As for why he made us—we just acknowledge he's the one who made us. But why? Why did God make us, right? It's the age-old question. I'm sure you've wrestled with that before. Why did God create humanity? Have you ever tried to figure that out? Have you ever wondered that?
Well, years ago, I attended a debate, and it was between two pretty prominent theologians of the day who had these large followings on the internet. And they got together to do what Christians are sometimes really good at: to publicly argue with each other, right? And so here they are. I went to this thing at a college, and these two theologians are arguing about the meaning of life. And though they used really long words to describe their theological worldviews, basically what their stances came down to—the two different guys on the opposite sides of the room—is we had one guy who was a famous theologian. He was, like, an old-school guy. He wrote a bunch of books. And he was wearing a corduroy jacket with, like, the elbow patches. So there's a picture for you. And he explained that the reason God created us, why God created humanity—this is the reason, according to this guy—he said that we were created to worship God. And that was the reason God made us. And he had all these Bible verses to point to. And so the reason God created us, all of us, all of humanity, was to worship God.
Then the other guy, who was about 20 years younger—he had no corduroy, but he had, like, these thick glasses, this, like, thin mustache. He was kind of a cool guy. Also had a huge social media following—pastor, theologian guy. He explained, according to him, that the reason God created us was out of an abundance of love. And he didn't quote as many Bible verses, but he did compare the Creator God to, like, a married couple who, out of an abundance of love, wanted to create life—and in doing so, also create love, right? Like a couple who comes together, they're so in love with each other that they want to give life to somebody else—hence a child, right?
And if you read through this whole psalm, or plenty of other Bible verses, you'll read these two what seem like competing explanations all over the place. These two primary themes all over the Scriptures, right? Love and worship. In fact, our psalm—which we'll see in a moment, spoiler alert—even ends with both of them, love and worship. And it makes sense why these two guys would fall on either side of this. And for years, I wondered this. In theological circles, this is simply—and this is kind of a generalized view—but this is, like, the Calvinist view versus the Arminius or Arminian view, right?
But looking back at that debate, here's what I realize. Maybe—maybe I'm just not smart enough to really get it. Maybe I'm oversimplifying this age-old question. I don't know. But the truth is, the more I reflect on this debate—even though both men looked and sounded radically different—the more I reflect on this age-old question, the more I wonder just how countering these stances really are. What if God not only loved us deeper than we could ever imagine, but he knew us better than we could ever know ourselves? And what if, in his perfect knowledge, he knew that our hearts were always destined to worship something, someone? And what if God commanded us to worship him not just because he deserved it, but also because he loved us deeply and he knew it was the best thing for us?
I've come to find that the most like me that I feel all week, all month, all year—the most like myself that I ever feel—is not when I'm thinking about myself, but instead it's when I'm worshiping God. If you've ever had these moments before, where the Spirit is clear, creation is, like, crying out, and there is no other response than, like, calling out to God, then you know what I'm talking about. And maybe it was in a sanctuary like this. Maybe it was in the middle of the desert or the forest or wherever it is. And it feels like you're on top of the world, and yet it's not even about you. It's with my hands lifted high, or my voice singing loudly off-key, or music playing louder than the lies and self-absorption in my head. And it's also when I worship God that I feel the most loved.
So back to that age-old debate: were we made to worship, or were we created to experience love? I'm no theologian or professor. I won't be a celebrity pastor anytime soon—I would make a terrible one—but still, my answer is a lot simpler than those guys'. My answer is yes. Both. We were created to worship. We were created out of an abundance of love. And those are actually not competing with one another.
Let's keep going in our psalm. "Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name." Notice the gates and courts and even the praise—all of this belongs to God, according to the psalmist. They're not ours. They all belong to God. And even though we all know this, we don't always believe it. We don't always live like this. At least I don't.
The truth is, so many of us think the church is actually for us. Our buildings, our places of worship, my church, right? Even the songs we sing. And Lord knows, again, I've been guilty of this myself. I've visited churches with friends, and I can't tell you how many times we've visited a church and we got back in the car, and where does the conversation go? "I like that song, but I wish they would have done it in a different order. That first song—don't you think it would have made more sense to be the last song?" Or, "I wish the sermon was longer." Nobody says that when they leave Gateway Church. But still: "I wish the sermon was longer," or, "I wish it was shorter," or, "I wish—I don't know—the church was, like, too big, too many people there," or, "It was way too small." "I wish more people approached me. They weren't very friendly." "I wish fewer people approached me. They were too friendly," right? And anyone in ministry knows this thought—maybe you're having it right now: "I would have preached that text this way," right? "That church was too trendy, too orthodox, too old-school, too young, too old, too political. It wasn't political enough. How could they not address"—insert whatever important thing I'm thinking about that day, right?
And these are all thoughts that I have. And my friends and I would get in the car, and you would think that we just left, like, a midnight showing of a film, and we were, like, tearing apart the film. And all those times, as I'm pulling apart a church service, critiquing it, giving my reviews, I realized—as I look back—I hadn't actually been a participant in the church, a joiner of worship, a member of God's family at that time. No, instead, I was just a consumer of it. And I was ready to leave my review.
For many of us, we believe that this is our role in church: to take and rate. But the psalmist—all over the Scriptures we read—no, we are not the center of the universe. And we shouldn't be the center of our worship gatherings either. And again, have opinions on church. Have opinions on my sermons. Email me. Definitely, absolutely—I'm not saying that. But I'm just saying, where is our focus? And who are we running our preferences through—ourselves or God, right?
And in fact, that word "worship"—the very first time you'll ever read it in the entire Scriptures is Genesis 22. And it's the story of a man and his son. They go on a very strange journey—if you remember, like, the flannelgraph characters or the VeggieTales episode. But still, it's this guy and his son, and they go on this strange journey. And God asks something really, really confusing of the man. And it doesn't make a lot of sense. In fact, in many ways, it won't make a lot of sense for thousands of years. But the first time you'll read that word "worship" ever used in the Scriptures, there's no music, there's no singing, there's no instruments, there's no screens, there's no smoke machines or anything like that, right? In fact, the word "worship"—the first time we ever see that word in the Bible—in this context, can easily be translated as "sacrifice." The text says the man says to his travel companions, "Stay here while the boy and I go over there. We will worship." The dad knowing—if you know the story—that this worship would cost them both everything.
The truth is, you wouldn't know it by a lot of the top Christian hits, which are very often me-focused, right? But our worship isn't about us. It's supposed to cost us something. Most of the time, the price is our ego. At least it is for me. It's putting that to the side—our self-focus, our obsession with our own preferences, whatever it is. But worship is about God.
And finally, our psalm closes, verse 5: "For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations." I love that. His love endures forever. And God is good, and he is faithful. And this love, this faithfulness, this goodness will be available—it says, right?—through all generations. For our children and our grandchildren, our great-grandchildren, their great-grandchildren, and it will continue forevermore. And so, church, the invitation here is simple. Praise the Lord. But not just timidly or out of duty, but with joy and gladness and shouts of praise, as both an act of love and also worship.
I'll close with this. When I think of this psalm, I always think about the 20th-century preacher, missionary, a guy named W. E. Sangster. And like King David, Sangster knew trouble very well. He had found himself in a lot of trouble. And like the psalmist, he too often found himself in jungles, being chased or chasing after God. He was a phenomenal, faithful man who went all over the world sharing the gospel. But unfortunately, the hunger and thirst that David writes about all over the Psalms—Sangster knew that as well. After being diagnosed with an incurable disease, one that first attacked his vocal cords and then eventually moved into his lungs, the preacher slowly lost his ability to preach, and then his capacity to swallow, and then finally, at the end of his life, his ability to breathe. On Easter morning, weeks before he died, Sangster wrote his daughter. He says, "It is terrible." I'm convinced that there are worse things than experiencing great hunger and thirst, or loss of speech, or even death itself. The worst thing that could happen to us in this life is losing our hunger and our thirst for God. Or to have a voice and not want to use that voice to praise the Lord.
And I think a good place to start for all of us—wherever you are, not just here, but wherever you are on your spiritual journey, and whatever you walked in here holding today; I won't pretend to know your story—but for every single one of us, we belong to God. And I think a good place for us to start is this psalm—a place to go to God with thanksgiving. Let's pray together.
Lord, let us shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, as the text says. Spirit, help us to worship with gladness—not obligation, not religiousness, not a box we check, not for the approval or attention of others—but let us come before you with joyful songs. Let us know that you are the one true God, who made us, and we are yours. We are your people, the sheep of your pasture. And so may we enter your gates with thanksgiving and your courts with praise, giving thanks to you and praising your name. As our psalm says, for you are good, and your love endures forever. And hallelujah, Lord, your faithfulness continues through all generations. So, Spirit, give us a thankful heart. Give us a heart of praise. Give us opportunities to worship, and to recognize that our worship is with our songs and our passages and our services, but our worship also continues as we leave this place—not only with how we see you, but how we see our brothers and sisters that we come across. We pray this in Jesus' name. Amen.